


No rose without thorns

by xJane



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, First Kiss, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Near Death, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJane/pseuds/xJane
Summary: In hindsight, Matteo should have known when he suddenly found a yellow petal on his sweater, even though he hadn’t been close to any flowers all day. But he didn’t realize it then, just brushed it off and went along with his day.But there was no more denying now. He coughed again, and more petals came tumbling out.“Butterfly, are you okay? If you have a cold, I can make you hot milk and – fuck.”Hans stopped in the middle of his rambling, watching the petals fall slowly on Matteo’s bed.“Oh, shit, butterfly…”Matteo looked up at him helplessly.“How long?”“Six days…”Hans sat down next to him, grabbing some of the silken petals. They look so tiny on his large hand, so beautiful and innocent, not at all like vicious vines slowly suffocating Matteo.“Matteo, you need to tell… them.”He says the last word hesitantly. Matteo sighs. He doesn’t want to pretend any longer, and it’s not like Hans didn’t figure it all out months ago.“I can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same.”***Or, Matteo gets Hanahaki disease.
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David Schreibner
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	No rose without thorns

**Author's Note:**

> People, read the tags carefully. 
> 
> If you are unsure about Hanahaki disease, read this message carefully (it might contain spoilers, but I'd rather you know what you're getting into).
> 
> Hope you enjoy this story safely!
> 
> <3
> 
> _The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love.  
>  The patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, they will then proceed to cough up the petals, sometimes whole flowers.  
> There are only two ways to be cured of the disease. The first is for the patient to confess to their crush and for their crush to return their feelings – but it cannot be cured with friendship, it has to be a genuine feeling of romantic love. The second is to remove the infection through surgical means; however, this will also remove the patient’s feelings for their crush completely.  
> If neither option is chosen, or the feeling is not returned in time, the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, and they will eventually suffocate._

In hindsight, Matteo should have known when he suddenly found a yellow petal on his sweater, even though he hadn’t been close to any flowers all day. But he didn’t realize it then, just brushed it off and went along with his day.

But there was no more denying now. He coughed again, and more petals came tumbling out.

“Butterfly, are you okay? If you have a cold, I can make you hot milk and – fuck.”

Hans stopped in the middle of his rambling, watching the petals fall slowly on Matteo’s bed.

“Oh, shit, butterfly…”

Matteo looked up at him helplessly.

“How long?”

“Six days…”

Hans sat down next to him, grabbing some of the silken petals. They look so tiny on his large hand, so beautiful and innocent, not at all like vicious vines slowly suffocating Matteo.

“Matteo, you need to tell… them.”

He says the last word hesitantly. Matteo sighs. He doesn’t want to pretend any longer, and it’s not like Hans didn’t figure it all out months ago.

“I can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same.”

“Oh, butterfly. I’m so sorry. Well, then we need to get you an appointment at the hospital.”

Hans gets up, hitting Matteo in the shoulder lightly, all frenetic energy, ready to take action, to organize what needs to be done.

“I’ll call them right now, we don’t have much time. Do you have your medical file somewhere? They are going to want to take a look at it, and –”

“No!”

Matteo yells, but the effect is lost when another petal gets stuck in his throat. He coughs violently.

“What? Matteo, seriously. You need to have it operated soon. It goes so much faster with roses.”

Like he doesn’t know that. He already feels the thorns piercing the soft flesh of his trachea, making his throat feel raw as if he has cried for a long time. Well, he has cried for a long time, but that was days ago, and the rawness is only getting worse.

“I’m not having it taken away.”

Hans stares as if Matteo has just told him the sun rises in the west.

“Matteo, but – you have to.”

He shakes his head.

“Please, butterfly. Do you want to die?”

And there it is. Of course, Matteo doesn’t want to die. But what he wants is not an option, is it? He thinks of the face he has been dreaming of, the dark eyes, the curly hair, the soft hairs on the upper lip, the nose ring, the gummy smile.

He cannot have the flowers cut out. He is afraid of dying, but even more afraid of living a life without love. He has seen how that works out. His parents made that choice, decades ago, both having the flowers removed when their crush didn’t return their feelings. They’d never been able to love after that. They had cared for each other, for a while, and they felt pride and tenderness and affection for Matteo in varying degrees, but never love. Matteo does not want to live like that, cold and aloof, removed from everybody, knowing he would be alone forever, even if he found somebody to somehow share his life with.

And even if the prospect of a life of never belonging with anybody wasn’t enough to make him certain of his decision, then there still was – David. How could he have him cut out of his heart? How could he give up the joyful feeling bubbling up inside him whenever they were together, when David laughed at him? How could he, knowing that afterwards, David would be some unimportant stranger?

“I just – I can’t give him up, Hans.”

The words come haltingly, and the despair in Matteo’s voice is reflected in Hans’ eyes. They stare at each other, unsure how to navigate this.

In the end, it is Matteo who gets up, hugs Hans tightly.

“It’ll be fine.”

Hans pulls Matteo closer, and repeats in a hollow voice, “Of course, butterfly, of course it will.”

***

Matteo has managed to keep it hidden for his friends so far – he claims to be busy with applications for a job for his gap year and only hangs out with them for short amounts of time. He will have to tell them at some point, but how do you say goodbye to the people you care about most?

He has tried to call his dad, but when he finally picked up, he told him about his girlfriend being pregnant and Matteo becoming somebody’s brother, and Matteo had almost laughed out loud at that. Still, he hadn’t wanted to tell his news after that, so he left it. He wondered if his dad would tell his newborn baby about its big brother later.

It hadn’t gone much better with his mom, either. He’d gone to visit her, one sunny afternoon. She was in a bad state, barely recognizing him. The nurses kept popping in and out to check on her, give her some more drugs to keep her calm or help her stay lucid or whatever. How did you tell the woman who gave birth to you that you were going to die, when she seemed lost in another, faraway fairy world? So he just hugged her, cried in her arms like he has done so often before. That time when he was six and fell off his bike and broke his arm and wailed in pain, she had held him so carefully and petted his hair as one would do with a frightened kitten. He remembers how loved he had felt in that one instant. But then only a few short years later, his dad had sat him down and told him the truth. He hadn’t been malicious about it, he just thought it best if Matteo wouldn’t cling to unattainable dreams. Maybe he even had wanted to protect his son from their fate, make his heart hard so he would never fall in love, never have to feel his lungs being clenched by roots and forbidding flowers. The irony, Matteo thinks as he stands in the tiny, sterile bathroom in his mother’s hospital room, carefully flushing the buds he has coughed up. Of course, Matteo would be clinging to unattainable dreams, the flowers in his lungs are proof.

After that, he decides to tell his friends. It is time. They will be angry, yes, but it has to be done. He sees blood on the petals one morning, and he knows he is running out of time.

Amira is first. He calls her, asks if she has time for a coffee. She gives him a hard time, teases about his biology results, but in the end she agrees.

They meet a few days later, and Amira, with her shrewd eyes, doesn’t need long to piece everything together. It’s not hard to miss, anyway – he doesn’t order a drink, and as luck would have it, he coughs almost as soon as they reach their table. He is used to the blood by now, but Amira is shocked.

“Matteo –”

“I know,” he says, when the coughing finally ends. “It’s bad. And before you ask, no, he doesn’t know.”

To her credit, she barely reacts to his use of pronoun. Then again, with all the talks they have had about homosexuality, she probably had her suspicions a long time ago.

“So, surgery?”

Her tone is carefully guarded.

Matteo shrugs.

“I, uh, I don’t think I’d want that.”

She nods, her head resting on her hand, looking at him thoughtfully.

“Uh, actually, do you know what happens with, uh, your feelings towards your crush when you have the operation?”

“They disappear, Matteo, you know that.”

He blushes.

“Yeah, but, uh, what comes after? Do you just, like, forget that you loved them?”

He doesn’t realize how hopeful his eyes are, but he sees Amira soften.

“Oh, Matteo. Do you want the truth?”

“How much will it hurt?”

She doesn’t answer, and with a jerk, he gestures for her to continue.

“There is a lot of taboo, and many people who had the surgery don’t want to talk about it, but the research is pretty conclusive. It seems you remember loving them, remember every detail about why you loved them, but you just… don’t feel it anymore. As if you are watching somebody else loving them in a movie, maybe. I heard it’s not easy. Most – many people struggle with it, they often end up with depression, or other issues. It – it is a cruel disease, Matteo. It doesn’t get less cruel after you have it removed.”

And that settles it. Having to remember loving David, but not feeling it? That is worse than cruelty. It is torture. He understands now, why his mother retreats into her own made-up world, why his father chases something he knows he cannot reach.

“Matteo – who – who is it?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Is it – somebody I know?”

He looks at her sharply, and that is enough confirmation.

“It’s not – Jonas, is it?”

And that surprises him. He didn’t think anybody caught onto that. But the idea – the idea of loving Jonas this much, of needing him this much, of being so completely overwhelmed by desire for him, by the want to keep him safe and happy above everything, anything – he starts laughing, shaking his head, and even though it forces another volley of blood-tinged petals out of him, he cannot stop laughing.

Amira finally laughs along, even though she looks worriedly at the petals, but it ends with both of them wiping tears out of their eyes.

Matteo has used up too much energy, though, and Amira supports him as they slowly walk back to the flat share. She gives him a tight hug when they reach the front door, and there are tears in her eyes again, but this time they are not out of mirth.

“Call me, okay?”, she whispers. “Any time. Whatever you need.”

Matteo nods dumbly.

“I love you, Florenzi. Take care.”

She walks off before he can reply.

And that just leaves his best friends. He needs a few days to recover from his meeting with Amira, and then a few more to summon the courage to call Jonas and ask him to come over.

By that time, one look at Matteo is enough. He is even paler than usual, his eyes are dull, and he has grown thin. Eating is almost impossible now, swallowing an ordeal due to the thorns everywhere. His breathing is slow, laborious.

Jonas yells at him, and calls the boys to come yell at him too.

“You’re crazy, Luigi! You need to go to the hospital, right now! Have it cut out! I will rip it out myself, you idiot!”

Matteo knows it is fear speaking, and he knows the harsh words belie Jonas’ caring. He doesn’t want to hurt him, or Carlos or Abdi, who are sitting next to each other on the couch as Jonas rages. He hates causing pain to his friends. He has seen Hans’ red-rimmed eyes, and heard Mia’s soft sobbing in her room.

“Listen, Luigi, tell me who it is. I’ll go tell her, if you don’t want to.”

Matteo manages a short snort, before more petals fall out of his mouth.

“It’s not… a… girl,” he chokes out, and he almost enjoys the way three pairs of eyes widen at him. Something about dying, he thinks cynically, nonchalantly tossing out the secret he’s worked so hard to keep hidden.

Jonas splutters only a minute or so, and then valiantly retorts, “Well, I’ll go tell him, then,” but it packs a lot less punch.

“No use,” Matteo wheezes. He is now regularly coughing up whole flowers, and the thorns are getting caught and make his mouth bleed. He spits out some of it, in a cup, and Carlos gags. “He doesn’t… feel… the same.”

“How do you know, Luigi? Have you told him?”

Matteo doesn’t answer. He is gasping for breath, and Abdi offers him some water. It doesn’t really help, but he sips a bit anyway, and looks up at his friend gratefully.

“Jonas,” he whispers, as calmy as he can. “Guys. I’m sorry. So sorry…”

A violent couching fit interrupts him, and he feels nauseous. He has thrown up a few times over the past few days, and it is… not pretty.

“You… have… to go… now,” he pants, and he wills himself to stay strong for a few more minutes, to hug his friends, to nod when they swear that they will be back tomorrow, that they will convince him to have the operation tomorrow, or maybe after the weekend, right, Luigi?

He knows they won’t. He doesn’t have much longer.

“Hans… can you… do me a… favour?”

***

It takes him almost an hour to climb the stairs, after Hans drops him off in his beat-up car. If Hans has his thoughts about Matteo wanting to come here, he doesn’t voice them.

He knows it has to be today. There will not be many more days after this. This morning, he coughed up enough yellow roses to make a whole bouquet. He could have gathered them, put a pretty bow on them, and offered them to David – if only they weren’t covered in blood. The irony, indeed.

He has coughed up some more on his way up, and has left them carelessly in the stairwell. He tries to stand up straight, hopes there isn’t too much blood on his lips as he knocks.

Laura opens after a long time. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a while, and her eyes are puffy. She startles when she sees him. He knows he looks like shit, but there’s nothing to be done about that.

“Matteo! Uh, does David – does he know you’re coming?”

Matteo shakes his head, feeling another cough coming up.

“Can I – I need to… talk… to him… please.”

He struggles to keep the flowers in. Please, he prays to some higher entity he has never believed in, just let me in. Just let me say goodbye to him. I won’t burden him, won’t tell him it is him, just let me see him one more time. Let me hug him one more time. Let me feel the enormous joy of knowing him, seeing him happy for one more minute, please, please, please…

He hears Laura hesitate.

“I’m not sure, Matteo… He is – not doing very well right now.”

It’s almost funny, really.

“Neither am… I… if you… couldn’t… tell.”

The few words are too much, and the rosebuds spill all over the Schreibner’s threshold. Laura jumps back, and gasps in surprise. Matteo is bent over, the fit taking everything out of him, but when he looks up, Laura seems determined, and – hopeful? He has no time to ponder it, because she puts his arm over her shoulder, and helps him in, ignoring the tainted flowers.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”, she says as they reach David’s bedroom. The door is closed, and she knocks gingerly before opening it.

“David, you have a visitor.”

He hears some mumbling from inside, and it sounds like David is protesting, but Laura is having none of it as she pushes Matteo in and closes the door.

It is dim inside, and David is hidden by a pile of blankets. Matteo needs to see him, needs to drink him in, and he switches on the lights.

“Hey David,” he manages to rasp. It sounds hoarse and it is so painful to speak, but at least it doesn’t send him into another coughing fit.

At the sound of his voice, David jerks under the blankets, and he slowly comes up from underneath them. Matteo’s eyes are trained on him, and – shit, Laura was right. David looks feverish, his hair stuck to his head, sweat beading on his temple. For a few moments, Matteo just stares, and then –

Rose petals. Blue rose petals, with scarlet edges. They are everywhere on David’s pillow.

Oh, the irony.

It is enough to make him break, and he sinks down on the mattress, hiding his head in his hands, and he wishes he could yell, but his throat is constricted, and the tears flow in silence. He wants to tell David to have it removed, to give up whoever is stupid enough not to return his feelings. He needs David to live and be happy, not – not this. Not ever this.

“Matteo?”, comes David’s voice, small.

He turns around, and he wants to speak, but of course, the cursed flowers decide otherwise. He coughs, and as if to taunt him, one perfect yellow rose falls down next to David, and there isn’t even a trace of blood on the petals, as if it’s just a stem he bought at some floral shop to present to the boy he loves.

Nothing moves for a few blissful seconds.

“Oh, god, Matteo!”

David sits up, and the movement jostles Matteo, and more flowers come up, this time covered in crimson, and David stares at them with wide eyes.

“No, no, no. Matteo, please. Tell them, please!”

“No… use…”, he gets out between flowers and angry thorns.

“Then you need to go to the hospital! Now, Matteo, you have no time left!”

Matteo tends to agree. He feels like the roots are grasping his lungs like a vice, it becomes harder to breathe, the thorns are lodged in this throat, every move hurts. He doesn’t know how long he can fight it, but he has to hang on for long enough to change things for David. He has to convince David to confess to his crush, so he can be happy. He needs to know that David is happy, when the angry vines around his lungs take over.

In a weak attempt at shrugging things off, he gestures to the blue petals that have started tumbling down out of David’s mouth, as if to say, you are one to speak. He wants to tell David so many things, but when he tries to, no sounds come out, except for the horrible hacking when more roses fight their way out.

“Matteo!”

David’s arms are around him, and he feels tears trickling down.

“Matteo, please…”

Blue petals are tumbling down all around them, and David has to stop talking for a few seconds, but he still clings onto Matteo like a lifeline.

“Matteo, you can’t die… I love you, Matteo, I love you so much!”

Matteo registers the words, and he tries to decipher their meaning, but the vines are getting stronger every minute, and he blinks, trying to understand what is going on.

David keeps repeating the same sentence over and over, and his voice grows stronger, more confident, and – the rush of petals slows down, until it stops.

Just as the last one lands on the floor, all the others disappear, and now there are only the gruesome yellow flowers left.

David stops talking in the middle of an “I love you” and stares. He puts a hand to his throat, and he breathes in a few big gulps of air.

“You… Matteo, do you – you feel the same?”

He sounds unbelieving, as if the facts aren’t there in front of him, inside his lungs.

Matteo nods, his eyes welling up. David is safe. He just wants to close his eyes now, remember David like this, beautiful and warm. The flowers force their way through his throat, past his lips, and he cannot fight them anymore.

“But then – why are you still – Matteo!”, he yells, then, louder, “Laura! Laura, hurry!”

Laura comes bursting into the room, anxious and frightened.

“Laura, I confessed to him, and my flowers disappeared, but Matteo is still – God! Laura, don’t let him die, do something, please! Why is he not getting better?”

Laura looks at them, bewildered, and it seems she needs a minute to catch up.

“He has to confess! Matteo, you have to tell David you love him!”

And Matteo tries, he really does, but the words get stuck in the bloodied thorns, and everything is blurry.

“No!”

David’s voice pierces through.

“Tell me, Matteo!”

He feels David shake him violently, and he wishes he wouldn’t, because the flowers are gripping harder and harder with every jolt, until –

A huge flower, with thorns bigger than any rose Matteo has ever seen, suddenly gets knocked out of his mouth by David’s wild jostling, and Matteo rushes it out, almost unintelligible.

“LoveyaDavid…”

It takes all he has, and the flowers fill up his throat again immediately, and the blood tastes coppery in his mouth.

But David stops shaking him, lies him down tenderly on the mattress, and caresses his cheek with tears in his eyes.

“I love you too, Teo.”

It takes much longer than it did for David, and he has to fight for every bit of air, but finally, finally, he feels the flowers retreat, angry at having failed at the last possible minute.

The flowers and the blood slowly vanish, while David keeps touching Matteo, and when Matteo takes a breath and gets dizzy as the air fills up his lungs without constriction, everybody laughs and cries and there are hugs and many whispered words of love.

And then Laura leaves the room, promising to call Hans, promising to call everybody, they need to celebrate – and Matteo and David are alone, and they look at each other as if they have never seen the other before.

Their kiss is deep, and hungry, and yet so gentle and sweet, and they need to stop because they need to breathe, and they both have had enough of not being able to get enough air in their lungs for a lifetime.

“Love you,” they murmur almost simultaneously, and they smile.

Maybe later, they will scold each other for not coming clean at the first petal, and maybe later, they will tell their friends they don’t ever want to see a flower ever again in their life, but for now, they breathe, they kiss, they love. Everything else can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment if you like!
> 
> <3


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